


Irresistible Ego

by MaiasPen



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: "EGOSHIP", "Egoshipping", "GAML", EGOSHIPPER", F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 23:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17838179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiasPen/pseuds/MaiasPen
Summary: COMPLETE! Everyone is having a great time at Ash's wedding, except Gary Oak. It's hard to have fun when you're being pestered by fangirls, your date dumps you for Brock and you're babysitting Misty Waterflower - the beautiful, brazen drunk. Egoshipping. Gary X Misty





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I only own my fondness for Gary Oak.  
> Please note that I wrote this story in 2011. It is not ‘new’. However, I recently combed through and ‘modernized it’.
> 
> WARNING: I have rated this story ‘TEEN’ for some adult innuendos/situations and alcohol use. If you are uncomfortable with 'sexual humor' you may not want to read, just sayin'.
> 
> Dedication: paintedbynumbers (also known as nikegoddess_ ) Cheers to you my friend, should this story ever find your sight.  
> Story Art: Please visit my website: egoshipper dot com For cover art by wooserr.

Chapter One  
Gary Oak swirled the olive around his empty Martini glass. He didn't care for olives and he was bored. Therefore he entertained himself by counting how many times the tiny fruit could race around the circumference of the glass before his wrist began to cramp. The answer was seventy-seven and now Gary's wrist was going to need an ice-pack. He was also in need of another drink, preferably something stronger than a Martini. However, it was risky to voyage across the hotel ballroom to the bar. The room was packed with hundreds of people, all of whom would love to surround Gary, and talk his ear off should he dare to venture into the heart of this celebration. Well, at least it was an open bar, free booze might be worth the journey.  
Gary pulled his attention from the Martini glass and allowed his sight to roam about the grand room. Lavish white decorations were strung up all over the place. The room was designed to emulate a fairytale setting, but the grotesque amounts of white decor everywhere had Gary wondering if he should have adorned a snow suit instead of a tuxedo? The setting seemed more like a bizarrely creepy winter wonderland to him. The ballroom walls were painted white to begin with, but the decorating committee had secured satin white bows on the chandlers and added frilly white lace to the already white curtains. There were white candles sitting next to white silken potpourri party-favors which were placed beside creamy white chocolate mints on the white table cloths next to chairs with fluffy-white covers . . . BLAH! White, white, white! Gary silently prayed that his sight be spared permanent damaged after being forced-fed the same blank shade for hours on end. He had read stories in National Poke'graphic Magazine of arctic explorers straining their retinas after prolonged exposure to the bleak frozen tundra.  
Gary redirected this focus upon the human occupants that shared this tundra with him. He would rather chance being sucked into a conversation about Weedle reproduction than stare at these decorations anymore.   
Thankfully, aside from the bride herself, none of the other guests were wearing white clothes. The guests were appropriately dressed in their finest gowns and tuxedos. Couples were slow dancing to some sappy love song in every direction. As much as Gary was not enjoying himself, he at least had to admit that dinner – which was an hour ago—was pretty incredible. The feast was comprised of five courses from appetizers to salads to soups to main dishes to the grand finale: the wedding cake. The open bar didn't hurt either.  
Overall Gary had to hand it to Ash Ketchum: the Pokemon Master knew how to get married in style!  
Ah, yes . . . Ash Ketchum, Pokemon Master for three months had met his fiancée – correction – new wife, at his Master Coronation Ceremony. The woman, Cindy Lou Louie – correction – Cindy Lou Ketchum, was a lovely woman of forty three years. This made Cindy Lou twenty years Ash's senior. The new Mrs. Ketchum stood six feet tall, had long bleach blond hair and flawless tanned skin. It was evident to everyone why she won the title of 'Miss Kanto’ three years in a row . . . ten years ago. Cindy Lou was a Beauty Queen from her fake blond hair to her manicured toes. But her most eye-popping feature was her bosom, which bore a striking resemblance to a pair of round, plump Igglybuffs nestled side-by-side.  
Gary had seen a lot of bosoms in his day – real ones, fake ones, big ones, small ones – but these were just unreal in their sheer size, roundness and buoyancy. Cindy Lou's wedding gown was whiter than the ballroom with a deep-plunging neck-line that flaunted her Igglybuffs to one and all. She may have been dressed in virgin-colored robes, but Gary would bet a Master Ball that Cindy Lou had ten times the bedroom experience than her new husband.  
Was Cindy Lou a gold-digger? Probably. But still, Gary was glad for Ash anyway. Ash was ogling over his voluptuous bride throughout the entire ceremony. And, Gary had to smirk, in this moment Ash looked incredibly blissful dancing with his wife. Ash smiled dreamily, his head smushed between the Igglybuffs like he were being tucked into bed. It looked like Ash could quite possibly suffocate between those knockers, but hey, at least he'd die a happy man!  
Gary forced himself to look away before he either started laughing out loud or puked. He didn't need to watch Ash feel-up his bride’s breasts with his cheeks.  
Ew, gross. This was probably Ash's first time ever feeling a boob.  
Gary noticed that his own date (and former girlfriend), Anita, was dancing with Brock Stone beside the newlyweds. Gary and Anita had been seeing one another for about two months, and it had become clear that things were not going to work out long-term. Anita was a nice girl, but immature and kind of stupid. She always called his Balstoise a ‘Cute big Squirtle-poo’, which irritated him to no end. Come to think of it, Anita was like a mini-version of Ash's wife: blond, tan and big chested, only she stood 5'3". Gary and Anita had ended their relationship last week, but he allowed her to accompany him to the wedding for two reasons:  
First: Anita had already bought a dress.  
Second: Gary was NOT going to show up solo to Ashy-boy's wedding.  
Gary and Anita were certainly not on great terms, especially since their break-up involved her spilling his entire 4,069 Pokeball collection across his laboratory floor. But Gary didn't have to hang out with her, just show up with her so as not to look like a dateless loser . . . which, Gary mused, had apparently back-fired since Anita was now in Brock's arms. Ah well, Gary took comfort in the fact that he was both an Oak and famous, and probably couldn't look like a loser if he tried. It was a gift.  
Anita and Brock seemed to be hitting it off. They danced as though they were wrapped in a Tentacool's Constrict attack, totally pressed together. Brock looked like he were going to experience an orgasm every time Anita's leg brushed his.  
“Amateur." Gary scoffed, setting his empty glass on the table. He stood up to his full height and stretched before starting his quest across the room toward the bar. He paused momentarily to study his reflection in one of the white-framed windows. Gary hated to admit it, but he looked tired. Countless late nights conducting research were beginning to take their toll. Just the hint of a shadow hung below his eyes as proof. Summoning some bravado, Gary grinned at his reflection anyway. Even sleep-deprived he did look especially dapper tonight. His classic black and white tuxedo fit him flawlessly, and the vest layered beneath was the shade of a wild Seadra. The vest matched his eyes as though the color had been custom blended for him, oh wait, it had been.   
Gary raked a hand through his unruly cinnamon spikes of hair, he had entertained the idea of smoothing them down for the wedding, but decided they looked best doing their own thing, just like him.  
Gary caught his reflective-self frowning as a young lady rushed up behind him and squealed: "Ohhh, it's Professor Gary Oak!"  
Gary forced his lips into an impeccable, well-practiced smile as he turned to face this random fangirl. She was leggy and attractive with Murkrow-black hair. The young woman's eyes were wide, clearly star-struck. Gary was accustomed to such awed reactions from the ladies (and often some of the men). This was the fifteenth time one of the wedding guests had cornered him to express their admiration.  
"Professor Oak! I’m SUCH a huge fan. I love your books and I watch your tv show every Friday night. I saw your special on Eevee evolution three times!” The girl was trembling with delight.  
"Thank you.” Gary meant it, though he wasn't in the mood for small-talk unless he had another alcoholic beverage. Fortunately for the young lady Gary was raised in the spotlight and was well-versed in the role he had to play. "What might your name be?" Gary took her hand and laid a slow kiss upon her knuckles.  
“Ohhh!" She swooned, dramatically fanning herself with her free hand. "My name is Darla, and I just can't believe I'm talking to THE Professor Gary Oak!"  
Gary grinned appreciatively, gently squeezing Darla's fingers. Her face flushed as though a Charmander were breathing on her neck. "I guess today is your lucky day and mine."  
"Ohhh! You are as charming as the gossip sites say! Could I bother you for an autograph?"  
"I'll do better.” Operating on cute-girl-autopilot, Gary whipped out a business card. "Here's my social media contacts and cellphone number. Message me if you're ever in Viridian City, we'll do drinks."  
Darla clutched the business card as though it were a legendary Poke'egg.  
"Have a nice evening, Darla.” Gary released her and continued his journey to the bar. The smile was already melting from his handsome face. Gary already regretted giving Darla his cellphone number. There was nothing wrong with her — she was a perfectly nice, eager, attractive fan-girl— but that was just the problem.  
As the young professor moved through the crowd, the guests began to whisper and point. Gary struggled to maintain his ‘cheerful celebrity facade’. He did not want to disappoint a single fan, but he was tired and he just wanted to crawl back to his hotel room for a goodnight’s sleep. The only thing keeping Gary at the reception was a promise he had made to his grandfather. The senior Professor Oak had made the junior one swear that he would not be ‘rude’ and retire to his hotel room before the party was over. His grandfather was away on an important research expedition and could not attend. Therefore Gary was representing the Oak family in his steed. Unfortunately for Gary none of the wedding guests looked even remotely ready for bed. Gary was just going to have to play his celebrity role for a while longer.  
Gary was only twenty-three years old, but he had already published four texts on Pokemon evolution and genetics. He was also the host of a weekly primetime program on the Discovery Pokemon Network called ‘Evolution with Dr. Oak’. Yes, Gary had completed his Ph.D in Pokemon Evolution at the ripe old age of twenty. Last fall he had been listed as one of Poke People Magazine's '50 Hottest Bachelors'. Gary had never been a stranger to female attention, but these past few years had been . . . overwhelming. Gary had dated more than 40 women in the last year alone. He could no longer recall the exact number, but 40 was a reasonable ballpark figure.  
At first the lusty hurricane of attention had been exhilarating! It was any guys dream come true having girls fawn over you day and night. But Gary's last break-up had been truly exhausting . . . stacked upon his fifty-plus hour work week, Gary was becoming dull to the masses of meaningless relationships and flings. Not that he wanted to be married like Ash or anything, it's just that he wanted to meet a girl that inspired him to want more . . . more than just some casual sexual fun. After having 40 something ladies on his arm over the past year, and not experiencing a second thought about one of them, Gary was starting to wonder if there were any ladies in existence who were capable of romantically holding his interest anymore? Granted there were plentiful females capable of holding his attention . . . anatomically speaking, but, Gary craved having his mind stimulated as well. He was so easily bored, and he had no patience for dumb, flighty girls who said ‘yes’ to everything and were constantly trying to appease him. These girls were a dime a dozen and were Muk in his hands before he even asked them out.  
Where was the chase? The thrill? The challenge? Were there no girls left on this planet that could make him blush for a change? Make him fight to win their affections? Quite frankly this line of thought was starting to concern him. Could it be that he, Gary Oak, had a problem? Hell, Anita even seemed to enjoy Brock Stone's company over his, and THAT was saying something! Or maybe just being at this lovely-dovey wedding was starting to screw with his imagination?   
As Gary contemplated his dating woes, he realized that he had finally completed his voyage back to the bar. Luckily it was not crowded as most of the guests were dancing the night away on the floor. In fact there was only one other person sitting at the bar right now: a petite, slender and notably attractive red-head. This girl was familiar . . . what was her name again? Ditzy? Kristy? Oh . . . that's right Misty. ‘Misty’ with an ‘M’ like Magmar, and her hair was the same exotic shade as the Pokemon's flame. Gary recognized her as one of Ash's annoying childhood lackeys, and the current owner of the Cerulean City Gym. Otherwise he really didn't know much about her. . .  
Forget the alcohol, Gary's sights now greedily indulged by drinking Misty's image. Her skin was smooth and fair like cream. Cream that poured over a figure which was slender and curvey in all the best places. Her body was chaliced within a dress dyed to match a cherry cosmopolitan and it streamed to her ankles. This delicious dress revealed just enough skin to leave Gary's sights thirsting for more. Misty's hair flowed past her shoulders like a waterfall of orange liquor and he imagined it smelled just as sweet. Her lips were pouty, enticing and Gary craved to sample them, to nibble her perfect appetizers before devouring the rest. But Misty's most delectably mesmerizing features were her eyes – they were intense and vibrant like mint. The perfect garnish on a perfectly mouthwatering cocktail. Gary Oak was suddenly very thirsty.  
The young professor had now been drooling over the red-head for several obvious moments. Despite this, Misty did not once glance in his direction. How odd. Most ladies would be pleading for an autograph by now. Could it be that Misty did not notice him? Gary scoffed inwardly, that was hardly possible. He was going to contribute her lack of swooning to the fact that there were FIVE empty Martini glasses scattered around her, and, that she was expertly downing another one at this moment.   
My-oh-my the red-head could drink!  
The bartender appeared to take Gary's order.  
"I'll have whatever she's having.” He gestured to Misty who, only now, glanced his way.   
Gary expected her eyes to light-up upon seeing a celebrity beside her, but instead Misty narrowed them into scary green slits. His exotic cocktail had been replaced by something so sour and rotten that a sip would make you puke for a week! Gary returned her putrid reaction with a grimace. Was her vision blurry or something?  
The bartender handed Gary a Chocolate Martini. He hadn't wanted another Martini, but he'd never tried the chocolate variety before. Experimentally Gary took a sip: it was creamy, chocolaty with just enough burn. Attempting to sate the red-headed beauty, Gary proclaimed: "It's good!" and raised his glass. But her hand shot out of nowhere out and seized the beverage from his hand! Gary hadn't a nano-second to react before Misty had guzzled the entire Martini down! What a greedy Snorlax!  
"You're … welcome?" Gary forced a tight, albeit awkward smile and Misty's rotting façade dissolved into one with more semblances to a Magikarp who was drunk out of its mind! Only cuter.  
"Gary Oakie?" Misty blinked as if straining to see him clearly, though he was only an arms-length away. "Thanks for the-the drink, you snob.” Misty slurred, smiling that goofy Magikarp smile. Gary startled himself when he pulled his barstool closer to her. Usually anyone who called him 'Gary Oakie' (or 'snob' for that matter) would be placed on a ‘do not talk to’ list but — for utterly irrational reasons— he found Misty's silly drunken smile . . . enchanting.  
"So, are you having fun?" Gary asked, casually brushing his arm against hers. Misty seemed oblivious to their close contact.  
She released a sexy little laugh. "Nope, not having fun."  
"Why is that?"  
"Dammit1" Misty slapped the counter top making the empty glasses rattle. "I'm still single! Can you BELIEVE IT? All of my sisters are married, my friends are married! And now even Ash— Ash Ketchum! Has beaten me to the-the alter!" With extreme melo-drama Misty buried her face in her hands, sighing as though she were starring in a Broadway play.  
Gary stifled a laugh, though he could sympathize. "Yeah, well, the single-life isn't so bad. You wouldn't want to be tied-down anyway."  
"Tied-down, smied-flown. It's the principal Oakie. Agghh!" She shook her head as though trying to dry-out her already dry hair. "You snobs never get it, do ya? Did you know that I had to come to this wedding with Brock as my date? Ugg! And now even HE'S found someone to dance with! Brock is having better luck than I am!"  
Gary chuckled. "Don't be too jealous, that girl Brock's dancing with is my date."  
Misty stared at him for a moment as though trying to assess whether or not he was telling the truth. Then, all of a sudden, she burst into a roar of hilarity which snagged irritated glances from several nearby couples. “By Articuno!" Misty squealed through her laughter. "You lost your date to Brock! You, one of the 'hottest bachelors in Kanto', hahaha! And I thought I was pathetic."  
Gary shrugged nonchalantly. "If I wanted, I could have any girl in this room. You on the other hand were desperate enough to come with Brock."  
The next thing Gary knew he was on the ground!  
Despite intoxication Misty was coordinated enough to SHOVE him off the bar stool. Gary stood, rubbing his tender backside as a handful of people gasped. Gary shooed them away and climbed back upon his seat. He stared blankly at Misty, his brain struggling to rationalize what had just happened.  
"Um, why did you push me?" Gary thought it was a perfectly appropriate question, but Misty stuck out her tongue.  
"Oh, just go away! I mean it, Oak— Oakie!” She buried her head in her hands again.  
"Just Oak. No ie-sound."  
"Okay Oakie!" And . . . she burst-out laughing.  
All rationale in Gary's brain ordered him to just WALK AWAY! But, a part of him empathized, and even related to how Misty was feeling. Knowing that Brock had abandoned Misty to indulge in Anita's company and that she was now drunk . . . well, Gary just did not feel comfortable leaving her alone to drown herself in Chocolate Martini's all night. That and her zesty-temper intrigued him. Misty had actually shoved him! She had actually asked HIM to 'go away'. No girl, sober or drunk, had ever said those words to Gary before, let alone physically assaulted him! Maybe he was a masochist, but getting to know this spicy-beauty might be well-worth the heartburn.  
Gary leaned into Misty's ear: "Girl, you are totally drunk-off-your-ass."  
Misty shot him a side-ways glare, but did not shove him again. "I am not.” Was her intelligent reply. She continued: "How rude! D-did you, like, come over here to make fun of me, Oakie?" And now did she raise her fist, threatening to strike him square in the jaw! What a violent, impulsive, intoxicatingly sexy drunk!  
Gary easily caught her fist in his own. His backside was already going to be bruised for a week from her first unprovoked assault, he didn't need a matching welt on his face. His hand on hers seemed to calm her, or at the very least startle her so that she relaxed. "You have soft hands for a guy.” She murmured, averting his stare.   
Just as Gary opened his mouth to thank her for the random peculiar-yet-flattering compliment, her expression turned suddenly . . . nauseous. Oh great.  
Misty looked-up sheepishly. "I don't, um, feel so good, Oakie."  
"No kidding.” Gary sighed. This terribly drunk, terribly attractive, terribly strange girl needed to get out of this reception hall and to her hotel room —or at least a toilet— at once! Certainly his grandfather would accept 'babysitting a drunk chick' as a valid excuse to leave the reception early.  
"Misty, do you have a room here? At this hotel?"  
She nodded, jade eyes wide with queasiness. “I'm staying here. Not that it's any of YOUR nosey-rosey business."  
He ignored the second sentence. "What room number?"  
Misty stared at Gary as though he'd sprouted a second head, Doduo-style. He re-phrased his question: "You got a key-card hidden in that dress of yours?"  
The drunken girl raised her arm, displaying a small wristlet. Gary took it upon himself to open it and fish out her hotel room key-card. It read room 231, one flight up.  
Gary spoke clearly and slowly so that she would understand: "Misty, you’ve had enough to drink for one night. I’m going to take you up to your room so that you can go to bed. How does that sound?"  
"Okay Oakie!" She laughed hard, again. Gary wasn't aware that he had told a joke . . .  
Gary hoisted Misty to her feet and her limbs flailed all over the place. She wiggled and jiggled as though her bones were filled with jello-shots. Gary struggled to retain his grip on her body. After a several moments of verbally coaching her to just ‘BE STILL’, he was finally able to fasten his grip around her waist and steady her.  
"Can you walk at all or should I carry you?"  
Misty shrugged, which Gary did NOT find reassuring. He decided to keep his hands on her waist and support her as they walked toward the elevator.   
Naturally a good dozen or so people glanced at Gary and Misty curiously, including his ex-girlfriend. Anita's expression was nothing short of disapproving. It seemed that everyone had the wrong idea about Gary's intentions, but he was not going to waste time defending himself. As lovely and delectable as Misty was, he was not some kind of pervert. He would never try to take advantage of her in such a drunken state.  
Once inside the elevator Misty plopped down on the floor and shook her red-head woozily. She seemed confused about her poor coordination.  
Gary had to ask: "Hey, Misty, have you ever been drunk before?"  
She blinked up at him, a tangle of alarm and wonder in her eyes: "Nope."  
“Terrific." He groaned.  
Gary would have taken a girl as beautiful as Misty on an all-expense paid venture around the world any day… but this — her first drunken experience — was not something he wanted to be the tour guide for.   
"It's going to be a long night."  
Misty crawled across the elevator and tugged on his pant leg. "You know," she grinned with a surprising amount of charm for an inebriated girl, "you're really handsome . . . for a pathetic snob."  
"And you're really pretty . . . for a violent drunk."  
"At least Brock didn't steal my date."  
"Touché."  
On second thought, where was his adventuring spirit?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Not only was Misty Waterflower a lightweight drinker, but she was also a bona fide lightweight. Gary was thankful for her dainty frame as the red-head was far too inebriated to stand, leaving him to carry her. It was a long walk down the hallway to room 231. If Misty had been a heavier-set girl, the task would have been unbearable due to her sporadic limb flailing.  
Gary feared that Misty may puke on his fancy vest, thus, he opted against carrying her 'princess style' and chose to haul her via 'caveman style'. Gary hoisted his well-hydrated companion over his shoulder like a sack of Pokeballs. Her face and arms dangled down his back, her bellybutton was pressed on his shoulder and her knees knocked against his chest. Once positioned this way Misty was relatively still for a good minute, and Gary dared to hope that she had passed-out. But then she started giggling.  
"What's so funn—Ouch!" his inquiry was swallowed by a yelp! Something collided painfully with his already sore buttocks! Gary jumped, nearly dropping Misty in the process. His alarm only caused her to laugh louder.   
Although he was a professor it didn't take one to figure out that the drunken brat had slapped him on the behind.  
"Nice ass ya h-have there, O-Oakie!” Misty sang through gasps of laughter.  
Two could play at this game.  
"So is yours." Gary reached across his chest and pinched her right butt-cheek.  
Misty managed to shriek and giggle at the same time, declaring: "I'm gunna kill you for that!"  
"So you're allowed to slap my ass and I can't even pinch yours?"  
"Yeah, exactly!” Misty snickered.  
Now it was Gary's turn to laugh. "That is called a double-standard and not fair."  
"Deal with it, snob!" Misty smacked his rear again, driving her point home.  
Gary wished that she could see the wicked grin on his face. "You know, bad behavior like yours can't go unpunished, m'dear. Professor Gary Oak may have to bend you over his knee and administer a real spanking if you don't settle down."  
Misty squealed with mock terror. "You-you wouldn't dare. I'd kick you!"  
Gary shook his head, choosing to let her win this round since he was approaching her hotel room door.  
With his free hand Gary swiped the key-card through the lock. The door beeped once and a green light informed him that he was welcome to enter. Once inside Gary dashed for the bed and set Misty down. She squirmed like a newborn Caterpie, appearing more restless than nauseous. Gary hoped that her queasiness had passed.  
"Quit twitching.” He instructed. "You'll feel better if you just lay still."  
Misty frowned but –- to Gary's pleasant surprise — took his advice and closed her eyes, trying to relax.   
The young professor began searching the room for anything Misty could use as a bucket should she feel nauseous again: a coffee mug, plastic bag, anything without holes would do.   
Misty’s hotel room was nearly identical to his, just smaller and with ugly Pokemon paintings decorating the walls. Where his room showcased stunning artworks of Rapidash running and Dratini swimming, her room showcased a collection of freaky Mr. Mime artwork. A cheap copy of the famous ‘Mimea Lisa’ painting hung by the foot of the bed, and Gary could swear that the Pokemon was smiling it’s creepy smile AT him!   
Misty’s bed was positioned against one wall and opposite was a small couch and dresser. The bathroom was next to the dresser and Gary headed that way, retrieving the wastebasket from under the sink. He set the wastebasket on Misty's nightstand so she couldn't miss it should sickness rouse her.  
Misty continued to lie quietly with her eyes closed. She must have fallen asleep, Gary decided. I guess I should head back to my own room then.  
Gary was almost to the door when Misty bolted upright, crying: "Wait! Oakie, wait!"  
He headed back to her at once. "I thought you'd passed out.” Gary explained as he sat beside her on the bed. "How do you feel?"  
"All aloneeeee!" Misty wailed mournfully, but a mischievous smile spread her lips.  
Gary raised an eyebrow, amused that she could embody an oxymoron. "Alone, eh? How could you possibly feel lonely when you're hanging out with me? The famous Gary Oak?" He flashed Misty his trademark grin, generally reserved for the paparazzi.  
Misty matched his expression. "Good point.” She agreed, the ridiculous smile on her face was evolving faster than any Pokemon . . . from super cute to super creepy! Gary shifted uncomfortably, Misty was starting to remind him of the ‘Mimea Lisa’ painting on the wall!   
With speed to rival a Vine Whip Attack, Misty's hands volleyed outward and seized hold of Gary's tuxedo collar! The Grass-type Girl yanked him forcefully downward and on top of her. Misty gripped him with the might of a Victreebel and Gary could not shake her off!  
"Misty? What the hell are you-mrrpf—" Misty devoured his words with her lips. The red-head kissed Gary with such a hodgepodge of frantic passion and utter clumsiness, that Gary couldn't help but laugh into her mouth. Misty's frenzied lips were all over the place, awkwardly struggling to urge a response from his. She either didn't notice he was laughing or the knowledge spurred her onward, because now one of her viney hands migrated to the back of his head. Misty's fingers gripped a fist-full of Gary's hair and pulled him closer, crushing her lips more firmly against his.  
Gary placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to ease the hormonal girl off of him. Only, every time he started pushing her away, she started yanking his hair! Their lip-locking had suddenly become a tug-of-war game where — if he won — he earned a bald spot!  
Misty felt his hesitation and wasted zero time raising the game’s stakes. Her tongue became a bold adventurer and parted his lips, trying to engage his own within flirtatious play. Gary squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to resist the effect that she was having on his libido. Misty's lips were sinfully soft, supple, and tasted like Chocolate Martinis. When his sight had first indulged in her image at the bar, all he could think about was this . . .tasting her sweet lips, touching her, making her his. But Gary wanted to kiss and touch the real Misty – not this desperate drunken one. He had to end her kissing-fest now, while he still retained the will to deny her lustful requests. He just had to hope that the sober Misty would still be as attracted to him as her drunken doppelganger.  
Of course there was a chance that Misty wouldn't speak to him after this. Who knew what – if anything – she would remember or how warped her sober interpretation may be?   
Damn, but it was a chance that Gary was going to have to take. No matter how good it might feel, kissing Misty back was wrong. She was not in control of herself and so he had to have enough self-control for them both.  
Gary was no longer laughing. He was now gathering every ounce of fortitude he possessed to not return the kiss which she begged him for. One of Misty's hands explored his chest and stomach, her fingers seemed to enjoy the feel of his hard abdominal muscles and she moaned against his mouth. Her little purr of pleasure was intoxicating! Gary fought against his painful arousal and resolved to do what he had to do and fast.   
Gary tightened his grip on Misty’s shoulders and pried her eager body from his. It was like dredging an anchor from a pit of quicksand. Misty fought against him like a ravenous Machamp – -struggling against his hands, jerking his hair and nearly head-butting him when he shunned her lips.  
"Stop please, Misty.” Gary pleaded with her, coaxing a reassuring smile to his lips. "You don't want do to this, you're just drunk."  
Abruptly, Misty did stop. She recoiled her hands from his hair as though it were flame, her face bleaching. She did not appear embarrassed or angry or even confused. Misty's absolute lack of emotion made Gary more uncomfortable than he'd been when she had first kissed him. Concerned, he touched her chin and tipped her face toward his. Now did sapphire and emerald stares infuse within a precious blend of sensation. Gary's spilled worry, shame and lust . . . he searched her sights for any semblance of emotion . . . anything which would assure him that she was not upset.   
He never should have let her kiss him for so long, he should have pulled her off sooner, even if it meant losing some hair. Cursing himself, Gary continued to hold her gaze. He was unblinking, allowing his raw anxiety to penetrate her and, at last, Misty sighed.  
Although Misty's eyes were tinged red from the alcohol and were certainly blurry, there was now a conscious trace of understanding within them. No anger or bitterness or disgrace, just a comprehension that the two of them had shared more than alcohol tonight.  
"Oakie?" she murmured cautiously, now averting his stare.  
Gary eased his body away from Misty's and simply took her hand and squeezed it, encouraging her to complete her question.  
"I think . . . I think I'm going to . . ."  
Oh crap!  
Misty wasn't the only one with Vine Whip-reflexes! Gary grabbed the wastebasket and shoved it under Misty's head, one second later and she would have puked all over him.   
Gary sighed with relief, holding his nose with one hand and the wastebasket with the other as Misty emptied her stomach. He offered her a few reassuring words, but, he sounded so nerdy through his plugged-nose that he just shut-up and let her finish.  
After vomiting for about three steady minutes, Misty collapsed, exhausted against her bed. The red-head was not even remotely conscious but she looked stable. Gary wagered that she wouldn't move again until morning. Not wasting a moment, he carried the wastebasket into the bathroom, flushed the foul contents down the toilet, rinsed it and washed his hands. He returned to his patient and re-set the cleaned wastebasket on her night stand with a glass of water. Then, Gary laid her sideways, propping her this way with pillows. He was fairly certain that Misty was finished vomiting but, just in case, he didn't want to hazard her choking if she were sleeping on her back.  
As Gary stood over her he couldn't help but smile. He had initially thought of this young lady as an exotic cocktail to pursue and devour. Only, now she looked like a delicately-worn doll that needed a hug. Misty's long ginger-toned locks splayed in every direction and her cheeks were unevenly flushed (probably from vomiting, but Gary wanted to credit some of that blush from kissing him). Her lipstick was smeared as though someone had skimped on the paint-job. Misty's mouth was slightly swollen from vigorously kissing his own. Her legs and arms were nestled together so modestly one would think a toy maker had arranged them thus. Misty was a chaotic mess and a vision of beauty. Gary shook his head, failing to stifle a laugh – he almost could not believe how attracted he still was to this girl, right now, considering that she had insulted him, assaulted him and then topped it off by almost puking Chocolate Martini's on him!  
The young professor pulled his sights from Misty and settled them on her alarm clock. It read 12:06 AM. How long have I been up here? Gary granted himself a final gaze upon the resting red-head before heading toward her door. He knew that if sober Misty woke up and found him in her room she would probably freak out. Gary reminded himself that she may not even remember anything about tonight, even meeting him . . .   
That would be a cruel twist of fate: for Misty to forget him all-together while he would never forget how soft and eager her lips had been against his. He would never forget how she had made him feel tonight.  
A few hours ago Gary was ready to give up on dating, convinced that there were no ladies left in existence who could thrill him, challenge him, inspire him to actually put his heart out and invest it –- trust it –- with another living creature. But what a difference a few hours could make! What a difference Misty had made!   
Gary warned himself that sober Misty may be even harder to communicate with than the drunken one. But Gary was enthralled by the challenge of trying to romance this gorgeous, potentially resistant and provenly dangerous girl. Misty's feisty personality probably intimidated lesser men, that was the only explanation why a beauty like her did not have a proper date to the wedding. Gary wanted her to be as feisty as she could be, because that feistiness was Misty. Gary didn't want to be with any girl who pretended to be less than what she was. He wanted to believe that sober Misty would continue to be genuine, even if it meant a genuine pain in the ass. He would prove that he could not only endure this part of her, but relish it. He desperately wanted her to kiss him again, but only when she was coherent and truly wanted him. Gary would not kiss Misty until he was sure.  
Assuring himself that he would somehow triumph, Gary headed out the door and into the hotel hallway. With any luck he would cross Misty's path tomorrow at check-out and he could ask for her phone number. Heck, he would even take her email address or P.O. box number. He just wanted to communicate with her again. Gah! He was starting to sound like one of his own fangirls!  
As Gary walked toward his room he pulled out his cellphone and dialed the hotel room service line. He ordered that a big bottle of water and some mega-strong aspirin be sent to Misty's room tomorrow morning. He told room service to put the items on his tab, the last thing that poor girl needed was an unexpected bill, even if it was a relatively small one.  
Once in his own room, Gary collapsed on the bed. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was. Granted, he had been tired all day. But taking care of Misty had given him an adrenal-rush, and with her gone he felt as though he'd been wrestling with a Machamp. Oh wait, he basically had been . . . a Machamp that wanted to make-out with him. Not that Gary minded. He liked playing Nurse Joy and taking care of Misty . . . and he really liked being man-handled by her in various ways throughout the evening. The professor beamed, realizing that his lips may well be as bruised as his rear end tomorrow morning.   
Gary summoned just enough energy to stand up and change out of his tuxedo and into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. He then curled into a warm ball upon the bed. His consciousness immediately began to waver, and he surrendered as Sleep’s sweet embrace surrounded his mind . . .  
"Ohhh, yes! Yes! That feels sooo good, ohhh…!"  
Gary's eyes snapped open.  
"Ohh, wow, th-this feels so-oo good!"  
Gary's tranquility was shattered.  
"YES! YES! YES!"  
"Oh yeaaah! Who knew what I'd been miss-miss-missing, for-ohhh- my whole-e-e lif-fe," gasped and groaned a VERY familiar male voice. . .  
Gary ground his teeth, cursing under his breath.  
“Ohh, Ashy, you tease you . . . ohhhh, yes!"  
By Articuno, Zapdos AND Moltres, NO! Noooooooo! Gary smothered his own head with a pillow, desperate to deafen the horrendous sexual noises. Tragically, the pillow only seemed to muffle the terrible moans, making them sound all the more bizarre –- like they were 'doing the nasty' under water! BLAH!  
This was hell.  
Gary snatched his pillow, comforter and sprinted out of bed toward the couch. The couch was against the opposite wall and, Gary prayed, out of ear-shot of his neighbors. There was NO way in hell that he was falling asleep to the soundtrack of Ash Ketchum losing his virginity. Disgusting!  
Gary shuddered, raking his hands through his hair as though the act would somehow scrape away the grotesque memories of what he had just overheard. He wasted little time settling down on the couch. The couch was a bit stiff, nowhere near as plushy as the bed, but it was quiet. Gary closed his eyes and sighed. Sleep’s wondrous peace again beckoned his consciousness . . .  
"Ohh, mmmm! Yeah, just like that, mmmm!"  
"Ahhhh! My GAWD! Aahhhh-hhhh….!"  
No! Gary shot upright a second time. No way could Ash and Cindy Lou be THAT loud . . . no way . . .  
"You're doin' good, Brockie-poo. Just keep that up.” Came another very familiar, very encouraging feminine voice. This memorable female voice was followed by a masculine moan.  
What were the dammed chances? This is unbelievable! Gary sneered to himself, covering his ears. What were the damned chances that MY hotel room would be sandwiched between Ash's and Brock's?   
Continued horror descended upon him: those two losers are getting laid tonight and I – Gary Oak—am not! The realization was nearly unbearable. Now the young Oak had to choose between listening to his ex-girlfriend stealing Brock's virginity in one room, or his former rival being ravaged of his in the other! It was too much! What had Gary done to deserve such repulsive torment?  
Gary stood and marched toward the door. He wanted to leave before Anita started yanking on Brock's nipples, then the poor guy would really wail. Gary knew from experience what she had in store for Brock. He covered his ears and contemplated his current situation, and the plausible options he had (given that it was well-past midnight).  
Contrary to Ash’s and Brock's opinion of him: Gary Oak was not an asshole. He wasn't going to pitch a fit and demand that everyone to shut-up for his sake. After all, this was Ash's wedding night. And Brock? He had to be pushing thirty. Gary wasn't cruel enough to deprive Brock of his one chance to finally experience the pleasures of the female body.  
Gary knew that he could probably call the front desk and get transferred to a different room. Maybe he could have Anita’s room? She obviously wasn't using it . . . but, he had already unpacked all of his clothes, toiletries and his body was on the brink of collapse.  
Groaning miserably, Gary crawled back into the actual bed. He did his best to cover his ears as Ash and Cindy Lou moaned on. Gary was banking on the assumption that virginal Ash would not be able to last very long. And as he was with most everything, Professor Oak was right. About two minutes later Ash and Cindy Lou's cries of pleasure subsided. A few moments after that, Brock let loose a final, considerably loud, cry.  
Ah, peace and quiet.   
Sleep at last had her way with the young professor.  
But Gary's solace was fleeting. Apparently Cindy Lou and Anita were not through with their new lovers.  
Three hours later the chorus of moaning revived.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
They sounded like mating Primeape's.  
Ash and Brock had far more stamina than Gary had originally estimated. As soon as one man fell silent, the other gained a second-wind and started up again.  
Wild, rabid mating Primeape's.  
Gary Oak had once published a case study centered upon a feral Primeape. This particular Primeape could emit the most powerful Screech attack ever recorded in Pokemon history. The creature could actually fracture its opponent's skull with sound. Even the skull of an Onix could not withstand the ear-shredding scream. As Gary lay with wide-bloodshot eyes and pillows stuffed against both ears, he could not help but reflect upon this Primeape subject. Gary could not help but compare his current scenario to the fate of those unfortunate Pokemon who happened to be within the Primeape's ear-shot. Gary wondered how long he himself could endure the incessant moans before his own skull began to splinter?  
It was now 7:00 AM and Gary was either going to commit manslaughter or he needed to surrender. After briefly calculating the pros and cons to both plans, he decided against life-imprisonment and instead left his room. The dining hall was open 24/7, and Gary's growling tummy convinced him that now was good time for breakfast. He knew for a fact that Ash and Cindy Lou had a 9:00 AM honeymoon flight to the Orange Islands, and that the hotels check-out was not until 1:00PM. Therefore, after Ash left, Gary could saunter back to his room and crash for a few hours before catching a train to Viridian City.  
Gary did not bother changing out of his smiling Electrode-pajamas. It took every ounce of energy and coordination he could assemble to simply drag his body across the dining hall and to the bar. Perhaps it was sleep-depravation infecting his imagination, but Gary pictured himself as a Muk Pokmeon –- slithering with painstaking effort to lug his heavy body one centimeter at a time.   
Once seated at the bar, Gary ordered a large bowl of cold cereal and a glass of orange juice. He opted against coffee as he was looking forward to plummeting into ‘Slumber Land’ soon.  
While waiting for his food order, Gary covered his face with his hands. The dining hall was well-lit and his eyes had not quite adjusted. He probably looked like a depressed, drunken, homeless Muk bum with snazzy Electrode P.J.'s sitting here . . . and . . . the fact that he had even just made such a bizarre inner comparison made Gary feel all the more lousy. Ash and Brock may not have cracked his skull, but his sanity was shattered.  
"Excuse me? Professor Oak?" A hesitant female voice accompanied a tap upon his shoulder.  
Gary straightened up, turning to discover a well-rested Misty Waterflower behind him. His weary eyes were instantly rejuvenated! Misty had traded her sexy red party dress for faded jeans and an adorable Squirtle t-shirt. Her tangerine-tendrils were pulled into a long Ponyta-tail, and a few loose wisps framed her eyes.  
Gary cleared his throat, attempting to loosen the strange hitch that had caught there. He suddenly wondered if he had caught some kind of flu? His heartbeat was most certainly expediting, and he could actually hear his pulse thudding behind his ears. Adding to his peculiar list of symptoms were fevered cheeks and a sensation of Butterfree's in the belly. But if he were ill, then why was he currently smiling so broadly that his face hurt?  
"G-good morning.” Oh Crappers! Did he just . . . stutter? Gary coughed and tried again: "Ah-em, good morning, Misty."  
"You too, Professor Oak.” She smiled politely.  
"Hey, you finally got my name right, ‘Oak’ not ‘Oakie’."  
Misty's cheeks flushed fervently. "Um, yeah, sorry about that.” She fumbled with her shirt sleeve even though Gary could see nothing wrong with it. He stood and pulled out the stool beside him, gesturing for her to have a seat. Misty accepted.  
"Professor Oak?" she avoided his eyes as she spoke.  
"Call me Gary, please, that title makes me sound like Gramps."  
"Okay, Gary. I wanted to thank you for the water and aspirin you had sent up to my room. That was very thoughtful."  
"Did they help?"  
Misty finally glanced up at him. She was starting to look like a Pikachu from the persistent blush staining her cheeks. "Yeah, thanks. I still feel kind of lousy, but the aspirin is knocking my migraine back a peg or two."  
Gary leaned in closer, catching both her sight and the delectable scent of citrus from her perfume. He smiled softly, hoping to lessen her embarrassment. “I’ve been there and kissed my share of toilet bowls. Trust me, keep drinking fluids and get some extra rest, you'll be good as new before you know it."  
Misty nodded, still fidgeting awkwardly with her t-shirt sleeve. Gary could guess why she was so antsy, she probably only remembered fragments about what happened between them last night.  
The waitress arrived with Gary's breakfast, he offered to buy Misty a meal but she graciously declined. Once the waitress was out of earshot Gary was quick to shoo Misty's concerns away: "Hey, Misty, nothing happened between us last night."  
Somehow Misty's cheeks burned hotter, but she did release the breath which she had probably been holding all morning. "Oh, I just remember . . . kissing . . .um . . ."  
Gary smirked through a mouthful of cereal. "Just because you found me irresistible, does not mean that I was unable to resist you."  
Misty's lanced him with a toxic-green glare! Gary would have flinched if he weren't so happy. That nasty glare of hers proved that the sassy, fierce girl he'd met last night was still in there.  
"I see that your opinion of yourself is as high as ever.” Misty mocked, snatching the spoon from his fingers and scooping a huge portion of his cereal into her mouth.  
Yup, she was the same girl.  
Gary knew better then to fight her for the spoon, and so he snagged an extra one from a nearby table. "How about we share?"  
Misty nodded her approval as she chewed and the pair dined in silence until the bowl was empty.  
Misty fiddled with her sleeve again, though less anxiously. As her vibrant eyes met his, Gary felt that pesky hitch catch in his throat once more.  
”Gary, I also want to thank you for taking care of me last night. I was really messed up. You didn't have to be so nice, but you were. You've grown up a lot since I last saw you."  
Her words caused Gary to laugh the hitch right out: "Well, I should hope so, considering I haven't seen you in like eight years!"  
"You're somewhat less annoying.” Misty continued, nudging him playfully. "Your voice isn't so whiney, it's actually kind of . . . sexy now."  
Gary raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Well, your body isn't so boyish anymore. It's actually kind of sexy now too."  
"I was never boyish!" Misty shoved him and Gary grabbed the edge of the counter, just in time to keep from falling off his stool.  
It was official: this girl was turning him into a masochist! Gary could not stop his lips from flapping: "Yeah, you were boyish AND obnoxious as I recall . . . though that sure hasn't changed."  
Misty scrunched her face-up as though she'd bitten into a lemon. She did punch him, but it was lighthearted. Apparently she was capable of exhibiting some self-restraint. "Nice jammies. What are you, ten?" she tugged on his Electrode P.J. bottoms. Okay, well, she exhibited physical restraint anyway.  
"You're one to talk, Miss Squirtle-shirt. Besides, I was too tired to change."  
Misty's expression softened at once. "I'm sorry. I guess that's my fault. You were babysitting me when you should have been sleeping."  
"No, no. I'm not tired because I spent time with you. It's just that I had a REALLY long, REALLY loud night . . ." Gary hesitated, wondering if it was rude of him to elaborate.  
Apparently he didn't need to, Misty hit the Diglett on the head: "Loud neighbors?"  
"You have no idea. My room was sandwiched between Ash's and Brock's rooms."  
Misty's eye grew wide, and she failed miserably to stifle a laughing fit. "Hahaha! That just sucks! HA! My sympathies! Do you have anyplace to be today? Maybe you can go back up to your room and crash now? I saw Ash and Cindy Lou leaving when I came down here."  
Gary nodded. "That's my plan, actually. I want to nap for a few hours. Check-out isn't until 1:00PM. I have to catch a train to Viridian, but not until much later this afternoon."  
Calming her hysteria, Misty took Gary's hands and pulled him right off the bar stool. "Well then, Professor Gary Oak, I insist that you return to bed right now, and that you allow me to tuck you in this time."  
Gary halted her pulling, eyeing her suspiciously.  
"I'm serious!” Misty insisted. "It's the least that I can do and I'm really good at fluffing-up pillows! I’ll wrap you in your blankets like a big burrito and you’ll be the epitome of comfort."  
Being wrapped like a big burrito was a startlingly delightful thought. Gary surrendered, allowing Misty to continue leading him forward, toward the dining hall doorway. "Okay, I'm game. Thanks, Misty. Do I get to kiss you this time?"  
"Try it and I'll knock you on your ass."  
"Again? My ass is already bruised from you shoving me off the barstool last night and then spanking me."  
Pikachu-cheeks returned and pushed him into the elevator.  
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0  
"There you are, Professor Oak! Wrapped-up burrito-style, as promised!" Misty proclaimed, stepping back to admire her handiwork.  
This burrito must have been laced with Sleep Powder instead of Chili Powder. Gary was unable to do anything but smile groggily at his spicy chef. The young professor wondered if Misty had ever worked for Taco-Bellsprout, because Misty had folded the blankets with such snug expertise! He actually felt as though he was bound in a Caterpie's String Shot attack — only it was not sticky, it was soft and warm. Despite being incapable of movement, Gary had to admit that he was incredibly comfortable . . . or he was so exhausted that even a real String Shot would feel good so long as he were laying down.  
"Well, now that you're bundled-up for nap-time, I have to take-off.” Misty announced. Gary wished that he could detect a tad more disappointment in her tone.  
Since she was not frowning, Gary tried to frown extra-pathetically for balance. He was literally battling his own brain for consciousness. The problem was: that his Brain fought with a high-level Hypno and he had a newborn Weedle. Gary did NOT want to fall asleep yet, not when Misty was still in his company. He really wanted to talk with her and get to know her, more so he wanted to see her again. Hopefully a lot.  
"Don't look so sad, Gary. I have to get back to Cerulean City, I have a Gym to run, you know. I've repaid your kindness and we are now even-steven.” She winked, bending over to tousle his hair.  
"If I-I could move my arms, I would be stop-pping this assault on my hair you-u know.” Exhaustion had him sounding like the drunk one.  
"I know." Misty's grin deepened, amused by his sloppy speech she ruffled his hair once more.  
Gary yawned, his eye-lids closing and voice but a whisper: "If I could move my arms I-I might even prevent you from leav…ing. . ." His eyes lulled shut, dang Weedle-wits! Straining for consciousness Gary listened for Misty's reply.  
"Why do you think I tied those blankets so well?"  
"Kinky girl. I like . . . you . . ." Gary was barely audible, he was not even sure if Misty had understood him until he heard her laugh. Gary felt her weight settle on the bed beside him. Misty's fingers were in his hair again, but not to tousle it. Instead she gently combed through his wild spikes, tenderly caressing his scalp and raking the remainder of his consciousness away.  
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0  
"Helloooo? Housekeeping!"  
BANG!BANG!BANG!  
Gary jumped as though his burrito were burning!  
"Housekeepingggg! It's 1:30 in the afternoon, checkout was a half-hour ago! Are you in there, sir?"  
Gary blinked several times, he was extremely disoriented. He had passed-out so deeply that he hadn't even dreamt. It was a black-out. The last thing he remembered was Misty stroking his hair, and now. . . she was gone, and some lady was pounding her fist into his hotel room door!  
BANG!BANG!BANG!  
"Oh crap!" Gary struggled free of Misty's burrito blanket treatment, and stumbled woozily to the door. "I-I'm coming!"  
I slept-in, he realized, I'm late for check-out.  
Gary yanked the door open and found himself face-to-face with a very disgruntled housekeeper. The woman was in her early sixties, dressed in lavender cleaning scrubs and was jabbing a finger of accusation toward his chest. "Young man, check-out was at one o'clock. You are going to have to pay for two nights if you don't leave right away. My manager doesn't cut favors for celebrities, ya know!"  
Gary nodded, his senses trickling back. "I understand and I’m very sorry, ma'am. I'll tell you what . . .” Gary dashed to his nightstand and retrieved his wallet. This woman was clearly not going to be bought by his looks or charm. Careful what you wish for Oak, Gary mocked inwardly, you were hoping that just one woman existed that could challenge you, now you've met two.   
The housekeeper cocked an eyebrow at the wallet.  
"I'll tell you what . . .” Gary repeated, fishing out a twenty dollar bill. "Give me ten minutes to shower and change out of my pajamas?" He flashed the most endearing smile he could muster while waggling the bill in his hand.  
The housekeeper snatched the cash faster than Misty had stolen his spoon at breakfast! "Make it an even fifty and I'll have the receptionist mark you as checking out on time. You don't want your credit card charged for two nights do ya?"  
Gary forced his smile to remain in-tact and pulled an extra thirty dollars from his wallet. The housekeeper grinned like a Jynx and politely took her leave.  
"What the hell just happened?" Gary asked the closed door. "I was swindled by an old lady and she didn't even care who I was." Gary laughed until he realized: "Misty left. She didn't say goodbye and I never got her phone number. Maybe she isn't interested in . . .?" Gary could not complete his sentence out-loud.  
Sighing, he grabbed his toiletries and headed into the bathroom for his express shower.  
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0  
My name is Gary Oak. I’m a whiney, sulky little baby and I'm not interested in doing a thing about it! He had allowed Misty to walk away and he had not even attempted to ask her out. Sure, he could certainly Google the phone number for the Cerulean City Gym, but it seemed tacky to call her at her business. Sure, he could get his Grandfather to sweet-talk Misty's cellphone digits from Delia Ketchum, but that seemed desperate. Maybe he could just show up at the Cerulean Gym, use the old 'I just happened to be in the neighborhood' line, oh no, was he even considering THAT? It was . . . stalker-ish. But is that what he was. . . Gary Oak: TACKY? DESPERATE? A STALKER?  
What the hell had Misty Waterflower done to him – his PRIDE - in only a few hours? Gary was the one who deflected tacky, desperate, creepy girls as a part-time job! He had never EVER thought that he would even compare himself to the likes. The worst part was that: Gary thought this line of thinking was actually the BEST part! HOW CONFUSING! That feisty red-headed chick had manipulated him like cheap origami. Why else would he even be enduring this ridiculous inner-monologue and worrying with such agonizing extent about what Misty would think of him! Gary either had to find a way to contact her — risking the creeper-factor — or wait for their paths to cross at another social event. Perhaps Brock's wedding or Ash's baby shower? Considering last night’s chorus of moaning, either occasion could happen soon.  
Gary hunkered down upon a stool in the hotel lobby, and buried his face in his hands. It seemed like he was doing that a lot today. The receptionist had been kind enough to call him a cab to the train station, and then she asked for his phone number. Gary actually declined her request, now that was out of character.  
"Look mommy, that man is crying!"  
Gary spread his fingers wide enough to peer through at a little girl. The kid was pointing at him with one hand and being pulled through the lobby by her mother with the other. The mother, seeming to recognize him, did all that she could to hush her child and move her along. Naturally several people were now staring at him, grotesquely fascinated as to why the famous Professor Gary Oak was hiding his head in his hands. More than one person held their cellphone up, snapping instant gossip pix. Gary was not crying, of course, but at this point he might as well have been. He already knew what the tabloid headlines and gossips sites would start broadcasting:  
‘GARY OAK SEEN CRYING IN PUBLIC.’  
Oh-goodie-effin'-gumdrops, just what he wanted Misty to see the next time she scrolled through her social media newsfeed.   
For the next twenty-ish minutes Gary channeled his inner Diglett, and kept his face submerged melodramatically beneath his hands. The cab would be there soon. Gary’s pity-party was interrupted by the honking of a car outside. He sat up to identify the source, hoping it was his cab.   
A small green hatchback had pulled-up by the main entrance. The driver was rudely beeping his or her life away at nothing. This hotel had an uncanny ability to attract wack-o's. As the car horn blared on, Gary noticed that the passenger's seat window was rolling down . . . revealing the divers identity . . .  
"Misty?" Gary was at that hatchback faster than Cindy Lou down the church aisle. "Misty? Hey!" he gawkily bent his tall frame in order to stick his face inside her window. Looking foolish and creepy had suddenly become a lesser concern.  
"Hi there, Gary.” Misty reached across the seat and opened the passenger door. "Hop in. I'm taking you home."  
Gary didn't need to be told twice. "I thought that you had to get back to your gym? I figured you'd left hours ago."  
"I did leave hours ago.” Misty admitted, a devious smile tugging at her lips. "I circled back."  
Gary furrowed his brow — which was challenging while grinning the largest grin of his life — and waited for her explanation.  
"I couldn't very well leave, Professor, without getting your phone number, now could I? I didn't wanna be lame and have to get it from Ash."  
"Yeah, that would be lame.” Gary's jaw-muscles were starting to hurt. "So what makes you think I'll give it to you?"  
Misty raised an eyebrow and tossed him her cellphone. On the display was a picture some asshole had snapped of him with his head in his hands. He looked like a huge crybaby.  
"Gotta love technology.” Misty beamed, winking. "I was already on my way back here before that picture hit my newsfeed. I must need my head examined because I saw it and . . . I kept on coming." Before Gary could formulate a proper defense, Misty laced both of her arms around his neck. With just enough force to be domineeringly hot, she pulled him closer. Her tantalizing lips were inches from his.  
"I wasn't, um, crying.” Gary murmured, unable to think or see past her smoldering-jade eyes.  
"Sure, Gary.” Misty sighed his name. Her voice ignited every nerve-ending in his body, devouring him within intoxicating flame. As her lips found his, Gary did not care if the entire world thought that he was crying in that lobby. He had finally found a girl worth crying about.  
The End.


End file.
